


Take What You Need From Me

by Nopholom



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Anal Sex, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 15:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8291110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nopholom/pseuds/Nopholom
Summary: It was quick, distant, rough, they both came quickly and slept back to back, the whole thing felt deeply impersonal.
How Billy ended up sleeping with Goody and how it evolved from just being sex.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The dub/non con is referenced and from the past, it is not what happens in this fic.

Billy had been travelling with Goodnight Robicheaux for six months when it happened the first time. It hadn’t surprised him at all, he knew white men, knew they wanted things they ought not want, that they took it with little to no guilt or regard of what others wanted, and he knew _that_ look when he saw it, knew the hunger that had crept into Goodnight’s gaze the moment the dust had settled in that saloon. What _had_ surprised him though, after Goodnight had drawn him in for a chaste, inquisitive kiss—he would allow him one chance to back down and not push this further _—_ Goodnight’s hands on his neck, their foreheads pressing together, breath mingling, was the way Goodnight had closed his eyes and whispered _“take me_ ,” stroking his hands down Billy’s arms and guiding his hands behind him to elaborate his meaning.

White men overpowered, they bullied, crushed, and consumed, they did not quietly plead to be taken, they did not open their eyes and look uncertain, skin colouring with _shame_ as they thought their plea had fallen on deaf or judgemental ears.

Goodnight pulled away from him, turning his back and clearing his throat, obviously unsure how to act now that he’d erred so dangerously, though who’d listen to an Asian proclaiming _the_ Goodnight Robicheaux a sodomite, Billy didn’t know. To save face and prevent a growing discomfort in their companionship, Billy reluctantly obliged Goodnight’s request; it was quick, distant, rough, they both came quickly and slept back to back, the whole thing felt deeply impersonal.

 

A few weeks passed without further incident, Goodnight slept closer to him of a night, a hand often grazing the small of Billy’s back as he snored softly under his hat, but made no further moves. Their companionship could have benefited from it but Billy couldn’t say one way or the other, he just knew that being with Goodnight made his life easier, and had decided that fucking him on occasion was a small enough price to pay for that. He would be ready and willing the next time Goodnight asked.

He tried to appear open to the proposition, but knew he came across as distant and a little stiff to Westerners at the best of times, so he reached out the way Goodnight had the first time; it was a simple gesture, returning from making water and dropping down onto the dirt next to Goodnight, their shoulders touching, what would normally be a brief touch stretching out between them and promising more.

Goodnight looked over to him with a question in his eyes, and Billy answered it through his lashes, turning his head towards Goodnight and leaning closer, being met half way by whiskey wet lips, a hand lacing through his hair and holding him close as their mouths moved together. It was quick and rough, a rut in the dirt, they came together and Billy fell asleep with an arm over Goodnight.

 

It happened a few times a month after that, evening would fall and they would bed down for the night, in a rented room in a saloon or a hastily thrown together tent in the wilds. Something would pass between them, a look, a glancing touch, an offhand comment that ended in shared laughter, and their mouths would crash together, falling into bed soon after. After Billy had reopened the gates to this, _whatever it was_ , Goodnight always leant in first, pulling Billy’s hair loose and curling his fingers into it as they kissed, and where other men had tried to use Billy’s hair as a way to demean and effeminate him in their eyes, Goodnight seemed to worship it.

It became an easy routine for Billy; touch, kiss, strip, rut, come, the soft whisper of his name on Goodnight’s lips, a warm, sweat slick body to press himself against, damp hair to bury his nose in, the smell was nice even when they’d been travelling rough for a few days.

 

It increased in frequency again when Billy introduced Goodnight to opiates; it hadn’t been his intent, Goodnight had terrors chasing him, Billy understood the crippling fear that awoke the man in the dead of night and had him clinging to Billy like a lost child. He knew how to medicate trauma, had dealt with his own and seen it in others who worked the tracks, and Billy’s kind were always willing to help out their own, even with a white man watching nervously.

They smoked languidly most nights, this time with their bedrolls together beside a felled tree, Goodnight leaning against Billy’s side, relaxed and comfortable, smelling of smoke, dirt, and a lingering hint of cheap soap from their drawn out bath in the town before, Billy turned and pressed his lips to the top of Goodnight’s head, inhaling deeply through his nose and letting out a blissful sigh. Something was stirring in him at the smell, a dull arousal, lazy but amplified by the drugs; as soon as he noticed it he felt himself growing stiff, shifting slightly and wondering why he was trying to conceal his desires when he had someone willing to aid him with them. He reached across himself and took Goodnight’s hand in his own, earning an inquisitive ‘hm?’ from him until both their hands rested on his manhood; Goodnight shifted away from him, keeping his hand under Billy’s and looking at him for a painfully long moment.

Goodnight slid his hand inside Billy’s trousers, taking him in deft, calloused fingers and stroking him slowly, keeping his eyes on Billy’s, Billy succumbed to the pleasure he felt and leant in, kissing Goodnight and moaning into his mouth. It was a wet and sluggish kiss, a slow shift of lips and tongue, devouring one another as Goodnight’s hand pumped him steadily, dragging fingertips up the solid vein on the underside before pushing his thumb along the tip and trailing the wetness down. Goodnight broke the kiss and Billy moaned at the loss of both mouth and hand, watching Goodnight move onto his knees on Billy’s bed roll,

“Up,” Goodnight uttered, voice rough with arousal and Billy didn’t quite understand, moving to stand and only making it half way when Goodnight pulled at his trousers and sat him on the log. He watched Goodnight crawl between his slightly spread thighs and, realising now, helped unfasten his own trousers, shivering at the way the cool night air felt on his prick, hot breath soon mingling with the cold and turning him on further.

He watched as Goodnight ran his tongue down, then up his length before taking him into his mouth, Billy threw his head back then, eyes opening to a world he’d not yet experienced himself, even with a woman. The bark of the log was rough under his hands as he clawed at it for purchase, it didn’t feel _right,_ not when a silk tongue and oddly soft lips were tracking up and down his cock, he tore his gaze from the night sky and looked down at Goodnight, watching his head bob up and down, his own hand shook as he moved it to Goodnight’s hair, pushing his fingers through it and allowing his hand to follow Goodnight’s rhythm.

“ _Goody_ ,” he gasped, and Goodnight seemed to smile around his mouthful, looking up at Billy with a smug, sly look in his eyes as he withdrew almost completely, tonguing the tip and allowing the elements to tease Billy’s wet cock before he sank down to the root and swallowed. Billy could feel Goody’s throat tightening around the head and let out a shaky moan, tightening his grip in his hair and holding him still for a moment, feeling short almost spasmodic breaths against his pubic hair as he cut off Goody’s ability to breathe easy. He eased him back, trying to draw him off so he could come, but Goody resisted and held fast, sinking his nose into Billy’s pubic hair once more and swallowing rapidly when Billy let go with a curse.

Goody coughed a little when he finally sat back on his haunches, his cheeks flushed red and his expression just as blissed out as Billy’s must have been; Billy dazedly looked down at him, tucking himself away before sliding off of the log and onto his bedroll, Goody moving out of his way to give him room to lie down.

He didn’t return the favour, not because he didn’t want to—though he was unsure he could commit that particular act willingly—but because Goody had moved to his side and curled up against him, head on his shoulder, arm across his stomach, and had fallen asleep.

 

It happened almost every night in some way or another, mouths or hands, or more, whether Goody ended up bent over the side of a bed or clinging to the side of his horse, or even pushed cheek down in the dirt, it just kept happening and Billy kept _making_ it happen. He was guilty of lying down behind Goody, inching closer and reaching over his sleeping body to take him in hand and stroke him to hardness, waking him because _he_ wanted to rut instead of waiting for Goody to take the lead.

Goody seemed keen, and almost overnight Billy had learned how to read him like a book, starting to notice the way that the humour almost constantly marking his features had started to creep into his eyes whenever Billy said his name, in bed or in public; they would share looks over anything, from jobs to uppity gunslingers, silently agreeing on the next course of action, which more often than not had Billy throwing knives.

But it wasn’t just that, they _talked_ more now in private and in public, Goody’s charm and jokes were ever present, but they shared quiet moments together that Billy never would have shared with him before. And he never would have expected Goody to tell him what actually scared him, just continue to offer misplaced apologies whenever he woke up and forced his way into Billy’s arms, but Goody told him about the war. He told him in haunting detail about the men he’d killed, the people he’d lost, the man who had saved his life despite fighting against him and his ilk mere hours before. He shared with him things that were reserved for kinship, not travelling companions, and Billy started to understand that Goody saw him as someone worth telling, he wasn’t just an alley fighter he could profit off of and a warm body to spend the night with.

Billy was regaining a sense of self that he hadn’t felt since before he’d been brought to America, before his family had been taken from him and he’d had his own life and ambitions. He realised that he was allowed to want what they had too, that he could make physical demands of Goody instead of just fulfilling them, he was actually free to do as he pleased, and despite the jokes of other men, Goody was not his master and he wasn’t in debt to the man any more, if he ever had been at all. He could walk away from this whenever he wanted to, but he _didn’t_ want to.

 

This hit him when he was on watch at an abandoned shack they’d found; the previous occupant had been dead when they arrived, so they buried him out back and settled in. They were ill at ease for the first few nights, always one awake whilst the other slept in case their host’s killer returned, never sharing a bed lest they be caught short.

He glanced over at Goody, who was lying on his stomach on the rickety old cot, snoring into the dusty pillow, the sound occasionally disrupted by the occasional moan. It had been a long while since Goody had been plagued by the dreams and their opiate supply had run dry between their last stop and here, but a half growl, half chuckle of “ _oooh Billy…”_ pushed his concerns aside and replaced them with a deadpan stare of disbelief as Goody’s hips shifted slightly, unconsciously presenting his back end to the Billy in his dreams. Billy bit his lip, glancing outside and deciding they had played this game long enough, nobody was returning and he missed sleeping pressed flush to Goody, one of their mutual yet unspoken favourite things about residing in places with small beds. He set down his rifle carefully and stood up, approaching Goody with a dull click of his heels on the old wood, the noise roused Goody, sleep filled eyes blinking at him slowly, a lazy smile spreading on his face.

“Good dream?” Billy asked with a knowing smirk,

“for once…” he rumbled, “somethin’ happen?” he asked, growing serious and rolling onto his side, clearly half-mast in his long underwear,

“Not yet,” he stepped closer, hesitating for a moment before leaning down and kissing Goody, Goody easily reached up and cradled his neck, drawing him in. They parted and Goody untied the sleeves of his union suit from around his waist and pushed it the rest of the way off, exposing his now fully hard cock proudly and moving to assume his usual position, but Billy stopped him.

“Billy?” Goody asked, trying not to sound disappointed, but Billy pushed him down onto his back, standing up straight to quickly disrobe before climbing onto the cot, easing himself between Goody’s legs. Goody was quiet, uncharacteristically so as Billy looked down at him, Billy reached to stroke his hands along Goody’s chest, just touching him, brushing his fingers up Goody’s neck then jaw, bending over him to kiss him, slow and explorative, no longer a rushed step on the way to climax like it had been before now, taking Goody in as a friend, as more. Goody eased his hands up into Billy’s hair, drawing the silver pin he had helped Billy choose from his hair and dropping it to the floor before entangling his fingers in jet black locks once more.

 

Billy prepared Goody slowly, barely letting their lips part even when he reached blindly for their little flask of oil, only just breaking the kiss when he slickened his prick and slowly pushed into Goody,

“All of it,” Goody whispered, drawing him in by hooking a leg around him; he obeyed and sank down to the root with gasp of his own, “God Billy _yes_ ,” Goody stroked his hands through Billy’s hair and butted their noses together.

“Goody, you’re so tight,” Billy gasped, overwhelmed by the feel of Goody tightening around him in gentle pulses, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to Goody’s lips as he uttered further praise and began to slowly roll his hips into Goody. Goody dissolved into expletives faster than usual, swearing against Billy’s mouth and lifting his hips to meet every thrust Billy gave him, the two clashing in brief breathless kisses. Billy took Goody’s cock in hand between them, matching the slow pace of his hips and squeezing the way he knew Goody liked it every couple of upward strokes, feeling the way Goody’s hands tightened slightly in his hair whenever he did it.

It was calm and rhythmic, a rocking of hips and bodies that solidified how things had changed, like melting together into one being, and though it scared Billy, it was deeply comforting to be buried so deep inside Goody, to share this with him. He curled a fist into the dirty pillow beneath Goody’s head and pressed their cheeks together, still pumping Goody’s cock as he fucked him, panting softly in his ear and wholeheartedly absorbing the dirty confessions that spilled between curses from Goody’s lips.

“You’ve got such a filthy mouth,” he chuckled and kissed Goody’s ear,

“You don’t know the half of it cher,” Goody rasped, “Oooh Billy, Billy, _Billy_ ,” he moaned, “Deeper c’mon now boy,” he gritted out and Billy had no idea if that was even possible but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try, pushing himself up on a shaky arm and twinning Goody’s smirk with his own, letting go of Goody’s cock so he could hold his hip and push flush into him over and over, the small cabin soon filling with the quicker slap of skin on skin where it somehow outshone Goody’s moans of “Shit damn… like that… _yes,”_ which soon turned to deeply satisfied grunts.

 

Facing Goody like this felt _amazing,_ being able to watch the way he arched up to him, hands useless and twitching against Billy’s chest, so caught up in the feel of Billy inside him that he could do nothing but enjoy it, eyes glazed and mouth opened in a beatific smile, beautiful.

Billy smoothed his hands up Goody’s stomach, splaying them toward his chest, tracing over heaving ribs and giving his nipples a cursory stroke with his thumbs, smirking when Goody gave his chest a euphoria weakened thump. He kept one hand on Goody’s chest, sliding the other one down to his cock and stroking it slowly, opting for slow, powerful thrusts of his hips now, deep and controlled and causing the bed to begin it’s protesting beneath them. He found himself panting a mantra of Goody’s name interrupted by curses as he drew closer to his peak, hand quickening as his hips gave instinctive, animalistic jerks, letting nature take over as he all but slumped over Goody whilst he fucked into him.

“Billy I—“ a cry disrupted Goody’s words as he shot stripes of seed across Billy’s hand and their stomachs, his insides clenching and milking Billy for all he was worth, the added friction and resistance hurtling him over the edge. He buried his face in Goody’s neck as he came, teeth scraping flesh and body trembling as he filled Goody’s convulsing hole, staying buried deep as he rode out the storm of pure rapture that hit him as he came.

Goody’s hands moved to his hair, marvelling it with his fingers, gently stroking and soothing as they basked in the afterglow; Billy withdrew and eased himself from Goody’s grasp, retrieving a scrap of clothing to wipe himself and Goody down. He tossed the soiled fabric aside shortly after and climbed over Goody to lie flush against hid side on the scratchy sheets, pressed naked between Goody and the wall.

He felt a sense of calm wash over him as their legs tangled loosely together, their bodies slotting against one another naturally, letting out a soft sigh and touching his forehead to Goody’s temple. He wanted to say something, to break the quiet and broach the subject of their lovemaking, to address it and explain it, to say _something_ , but he couldn’t find the words.

“Goody?” he whispered, he knew Goody was still awake from the way his fingers followed Billy’s hair down his neck and shoulders then returned to his scalp to stroke down again,

“Mhm…” Goody let out lazily, but Billy lost his bottle and stayed quiet, “Yeah… me too,” Goody yawned, Billy’s brow furrowed in confusion as Goody nodded off and started to snore.


End file.
